I Can Feel You
by Shining Zephyr
Summary: *Slight SMacked, MacClaire* A tribute to Sept. 11. When Mac visits Ground Zero six years after the attack, he meets two familiar faces... and one of them is his wife.


_A September 11 piece. Mac was in the Marines, he had a wife who died in the attacks. I only figure I give some respect to those in the attacks. And the only reason why this is spiritual is because it involves a ghost. Even if I don't own CSI: __New York__ or Ground Zero, I own the idea. Many thanks for reading this._

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**Stars cannot to shine  
****Across the waterline  
****I can feel you on the other side **

**-Paul Van Dyk, 'The Other Side'**

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I Can Feel You…

His head was resting against the gate surrounding Ground Zero, a picture of a brown-haired, blue-eyes woman against his chest. His face was tear-streaked after crying silently for the past hour. It was 9:11 at night that September 11, 2007, and Mac Taylor couldn't help but remember the day terrorism took his wife from his side.

Mac had always described Claire Conrad-Taylor as an energetic woman with bouncy brown curls and beautiful blue eyes. He loved her with all his heart. After nine-eleven came and took her, he couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. His jobs became his only means of escape from the reality he was living in. And he found solace in another woman… or two.

Mac found it unforgiving to himself to fall in love with another woman. After she had died in the attack, he couldn't do it. He didn't _want _to do it. It wouldn't be loyal to her wishes. He couldn't do it.

But Peyton Driscoll brought him out of his shell. He began to love again. They slept in each other's house, and she even slept with him in bed once. Soon enough, after the cocaine bust, they went to London on a ten day 'date' together. She decided to stay, and once again, Mac was lonely and single.

He wanted someone.

_"Mac." _

He picked his head up from the gate and turned around, the picture close to his heart. It sounded almost like a female voice. "Someone there?"

A small laugh sent a familiar feeling down his spine. It was just like the times Claire laughed whenever he told a horrible joke to her, and she'd laugh a humored laugh, wrapping her arms around him. _"I'm right here, Mac. In your heart and mind. Body and soul." _

He blinked. A wispy figure began to appear out of thin air, taking the shape of a thirty-three year old woman. She was wearing blue jeans and a simple white top, her brown bouncy curls and glistening blue eyes plain as the light streams of freedom shooting towards the sky. She seemed to float to him, smiling that all-too-familiar smile that Mac got accustomed to when he married her. "Claire?" he managed to get out.

_"Mac Taylor,"_ she replied, moving closer. _"Six years."_

"Mac!"

Another familiar voice called out to him, the voice of Stella Bonasera. He turned around and saw the woman with brown bouncy curls and shining green eyes running towards him. She waved her hand in his direction. He smiled and turned back around to the ghostlike figure, which simply stood there and smiled back, waiting. Stella caught up to Mac and looked to see what he was staring at. Her face paled over. "Mac. Is that a… a…"

He nodded. He seemed to be at peace right now. He acknowledged to the ghost-figure. "Stella, it's…" His voice choked up. "It's Claire."

She blinked. Claire smiled. _"It's been a while, Stella." _

The detective found her voice again. "Um, yeah. Yeah, it has."

Mac took a deep, shuddering breath. "Claire. Are they… are they ever going to find you under the rubble?"

_"I can't say I know for sure,"_ she replied sadly, looking at the debris still on site from the attack. She looked back at Mac, who was fighting back tears. _"Mac, I know you can't believe what you're seeing here, but the spirits of the victims who were on that flight roam here as well." _

He shook his head. "I don't get it."

Claire seemed to smile again. _"When we died on Flight 93, it was the most terrifying and the most elated experience any of us ever felt. We were dying, but we were being born anew. It was a new sort of feeling we had never experienced before."_ Her eyes were soft.

He looked down at the concrete beneath his feet. Stella put an arm around him.

_"Go with her." _

He looked up, confused. Stella blinked and shook her head at the ghost figure. "I don't understand, Claire. What are you talking about?"

She nodded to Mac, who seemed to get the shivered feeling down his back again. _"Go with Stella, Mac. I know you love her." _

"You're mental," he whispered weakly. "I can't. I'd be disloyal to you and to our marriage. I don't want to marry Stella. I love her and everything, but if I…" He suddenly realized what he had just said and mentally kicked himself.

Claire giggled. _"It's okay." _

Stella's head whirled around and stared at Mac. "Did you just say you love me?"

He looked sheepishly at the two women silently laughing. "Yes," he mumbled.

_"Then you have my permission." _

Mac's face crinkled in confusion again. "What?"

_"Go be with Stella,"_ she told him, a smile playing on her lips. _"With me dead and all, we can't exactly go on trips anymore with you, and with Peyton in __London__…" _

"Wait a second," Mac interrupted, holding up a hand. "How do you know about that?"

Claire looked a little offended. _"Mac, I see almost everything." _

Stella smirked.

_"…but go with Stella. You two belong with each other. I see the way you look at her in the work force. Be with the one you love."_ She began to disappear. _"I love you, Mac, and I always will. And for my sake, get some sleep. Please." _

Mac watched his wife disappear into nothingness and looked at Stella, who simply smiled and slipped her arm through his. She turned his face towards her. "She's in a better place now, Mac. You can say that for yourself."

"But I can't forget her," he muttered, tears once again beginning to streak down his face.

"And you won't," she whispered simply. "Claire's watching you like a guardian angel now, Mac. She'll keep you safe. That's a promise."

As they walked away from Ground Zero, Mac looked back and mouthed, "I love you, Claire."

He could have sworn he heard a voice whispering back, _"I love you, too, sweetheart. And I always will."_

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_So… let us all remember today those who helped us in the recovery and those who died to save freedom. Lest we forget, let us never forget the pain in our hearts as the towers collapsed. Reviews are appreciated. Much love, friends._


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